The Looking Glass
by VanguardAngel
Summary: Celeste Vokunah has done her duty as Dovahkiin, as the World-Eater lies dead. Now, she follows up on a curious rumor regarding a mirror in the mountains. Inquisitor Astellanna Lavellan and her people are enjoying their victory over Corypheus, but their peace is interrupted by the appearance of Daedra. What will happen when magic-fearing Thedas meets the mystic residents of Tamriel?


**Chapter 1**

A frigid wind whispered through the thick curtain of trees. Small flakes of snow danced through the bare branches, shaking the fragile icicles from their posts. The tiny shower of frozen shards that occurred startled a nearby fox that had been sniffing about. The pup squeaked in surprise before bolting in the opposite direction, too young to understand that not everything spelled danger. A thundering noise caused the fox to skid to a halt and change directions completely, bolting in terror as it grew louder.

The moment the fox disappeared into the forest, a large horse thundered across the snowy terrain, its hooves eradicating the tracks the terrified pup had left. The great stallion galloped at incredible speed, breathing hard yet showing no signs of wishing to slow. Unlike most horses, the flesh and skin of this beast had long since decayed into dust, leaving naught but its skeleton bare to the elements. Otherworldly, amethyst flames encircled his being, blazing brightly in place of his mane, tail, and eyes.

A robbed figure astride the strange stallion's back tugged gently at the reins, clicking twice. The horse slowed to a smooth, if hurried, canter.

"Easy Arvak," the rider cooed, possessing the quiet voice of a woman. "I know you're dead, but you shouldn't overexert yourself." The skeletal steed nickered in response, throwing his head back a little indignantly. The woman chuckled slightly, freeing one hand to stroke Arvak's spine. "Don't give me that," she teased, patting the exposed bone. "I call you from the Soul Cairn nearly every day." Arvak merely snorted, fully focused on enjoying the serene white beauty of the Pale.

Eventually, the tall forms of the trees gave way to the slopes of snowy fields. A great mountain loomed above, piercing the aurora-filled night with its majesty. Etched into its base were pale stone pillars, nearly invisible against the white of the snow. Seeing her destination approaching, she slowed Arvak to a walk, dismounting once his fiery hooves hit the stone of the structure's stairs.

"Finally made it..." the woman breathed, lowering her hood, revealing her Dunmer features. Scarlet locks flowed out the moment it was exposed to the frozen wind, veiling her bright crimson eyes for a moment. She tucked the stray strand behind her large pointed ear before retrieving a weathered journal from the folds of her thick cloak. "Now then," she muttered, gazing up at the ancient structure, a glint of determination in her eyes. "What secrets could you hold?"

The structure was circular in nature, very akin to the many Aedric shrines that she had found scattered across the province. That, however, was where the similarities ended. The stonework was drastically different than any she had seen. While it lacked the charming simplicity of the ancient Ayleid stones in Cyrodiil , it was devoid of the intricate knots and curves of Nordic architecture. The wasn't even a hint of Dwemer influence in its design. More importantly, there was distinct lack of any _Perhaps this is Daedric in nature...?_ The woman wondered as she scribbled in her journal _A summoning circle perhaps? But if that's the case, where are the bones necromancers seem to love to bring to places such as this? In fact, I haven't come across a single soul when I went off the road, alive or dead_. After a few moments of writing, she stopped, chuckling slightly to herself.

"Oh Azura, what am I doing?" she scoffed. "The master of the Thieves' Guild, wife to the Harbinger of the Companions, savoir of the College of Winterhold, and _Dovahkiin_ being concerned, worried over a damned piece of stone?"

Despite her disbelief at her own actions, her ever-growing curiosity urged her to ascend the stairs, standing at the center of platform. Arvak climbed the steps after her, just as curious as his mistress. The woman trailed her fingers across the weathered stone of a nearby column, admiring the strange symbols carved into its face. They appeared to be Ayleid text, yet there was something distinctly off about them. The ancient markings were routinely interrupted by instances of strange characters. The sight of them brought to mind an ancient Chimer scroll the woman had stolen from an old Telvani temple.

 _I should have kept that damned scroll_ , she chastised herself. With the recent eruption of the Red Mountain, many historical artifacts—as well as lives—had been destroyed in its fiery wake. Not only would it be worth a fortune, it would aid in the reconstruction of Blacklight's archives. _Shit...speaking of work, I'll have to pop buy Winterhold and fence off some things to Enthir. Don't want another incident with a drunk guard happening again...huh...?_

 _Click_.

The woman removed her hand to reveal a button she had pressed. _What in the...?_

Her thoughts were cut off by the scraping of stone. Spinning on her heels, she reached for the sword at her hip, resting her hand on its handle. A sparking ball of lightning erupted in her left arm, snapping angrily at her perceived target. Even Arvak pawed the ground angrily, his ghostly flames jumping in intensity.

Only...it wasn't an enemy at all. Instead, a section of the platform slowly gave away, sinking into inner workings of the structure, revealing a deep hole in the center. The woman lowered her left hand, cancelling the spell, but kept her hand on her sword.

The sound of scraping resumed, a smaller platform raised up from the depths of the platform. Fixed into the stone was a large mirror, towering over her by at least a good three feet. The frame was comprised of gorgeous, winding spirals of wood, with small flowers carved into the ends. The woman blinked, curious at the strange contraption. _Why would a simple mirror be hid in such a complicated way?_

Arvak began to paw angrily, snorting and whinnying, backing up away from the mirror.

"Easy boy," the woman comforted. "I can sense it too."

This seemed to ease the horse's mind a bit, yet his flames still burned brightly. She wasn't lying. There was a strange aura emanating from the mirror's glass surface. Upon closer inspection, it seemed as though glass seemed to swim and swirl. A few specks of magic floated away, disappearing only a few inches away. "I've never seen anything like this," the woman said quietly. She looked over to her equine companion. "Have you or your old master seen this before?"

Arvak snorted a little, shaking his head. The woman's eyes narrowed and she trailed her fingertips across the glass surface. It felt like gel, and the glass seemed to ripple under her touch. Odd, but nothing she hadn't encountered in any enchanted object.

"Maybe this was some strange aristocrat's project or...AGH!"

Something snatched the woman's arm, gripping so tightly that it seemed that the owner wanted to rip her entire arm. The woman began to claw at the unseen force, only succeeding in scratching into her own pale blue skin. She swore angrily in Dunmer, as well in Dov, causing the ground around her to rumble slightly with her anger. It was no use, as the force had successfully pulled her arm up to her shoulder. The woman yelled, more out of anger than fear.

Seeing his mistress in danger, Arvak raced to her, clamping his teeth into her cloak in an effort to pull her from her the strange force's grip. In a desperate attempt to free herself, the woman tried to press her foot against the glass...only to fall through and fall victim to the pulling force. With a single cry, the woman was sucked into the glass's grip. Arvak tried his hardest to pull her away by her cloak...only for the fabric to tear away, sending the horse stumbling backwards as his mistress disappeared. The horse stared at the strange mirror, left with only the cloak the woman wore.


End file.
